


swooping

by Amymel86



Series: Tumblr Prompts [24]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abuse, F/M, catelyn and jon snow feels, catelyn has harsh views on jon, catelyn's POV, not a huge ton of jonsa interactions, some jon snow feels, trigger warning for viserys physically assaulting jon while he's a minor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:40:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22671154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amymel86/pseuds/Amymel86
Summary: “Jon!”she snapped, trying hard to hide the way her nerves seethed under the surface. The boy’s head whipped in her direction. “I think it’s time you went home.”
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: Tumblr Prompts [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/804069
Comments: 26
Kudos: 183





	swooping

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vivilove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/gifts).



> for vivilove who gave me some word prompts and I chose 'sucker'. 
> 
> I took liberties with the ages (so shoot me) Sansa has only just turned 17 and Jon is on the cusp of turning 18.
> 
> Please read the tags for trigger warning!!

Jon Snow is one cheeky little shit. Catelyn has always thought so. Quiet and polite enough when she’s around, but he’s not fooling her; from the wrong kind of family on the wrong side of town and whenever he’s been in her house, making Robb and Arya roll around, holding their splitting sides, she’d just simply failed to see what was so funny with his clever little quips. He’s been ‘round sporting split lips and horrid mottled purple eye-sockets too. Whatever it is he’s getting up to is no good at all and she will not let him drag her children down with him.

Ned won’t take her seriously – says he likes the kid. After the Greyjoy boy, Catelyn is long past admitted that her eldest, Robb just has a penchant for collecting waifs and strays as friends, and Arya – well, Arya will befriend anyone.

But when she sees – truly sees – what’s going on between the cheeky little shit and her sweet Sansa, that’s when she flips.

It would’ve all seemed quite innocent enough, should one not care to look too closely. But Catelyn had. Robb, Sansa, Theon, Arya... and Jon, were gathered in the lounge, watching something or other. All eyes were glued to the TV screen – all except two pairs that only sought out each other.

...And then, Sansa – just turned 17, she might add – proceeds to take one of the suckers Catelyn buys for her younger two from her pocket, unwrap the thing and pop it in her mouth. If she hadn’t witnessed it herself, she never would’ve believed the show her own daughter put on with that lollypop for the Snow boy. Her tongue was swirling, staining garish pink. She licked the sweetness from her lips and sucked the stickiness from her berry-flavoured candy – all while that boy blatantly stared at the display, salivating like a hungry wolf eyeing a lame baby rabbit. Catelyn could only guess at all the filthy things his mind was conjuring. She was nothing but a tasty morsel for him and Sansa.... Sansa was just enjoying the attention, Cat mused.

Theon vacated his seat next to the drooling boy for some reason or another and Catelyn’s blood pressure rose when Sansa decided to fill his seat instead. Jon Snow licked his lips and leaned over to whisper something in her daughter’s ear that made her giggle and that was quite enough!

“ _Jon!”_ she snapped, trying hard to hide the way her nerves seethed under the surface. The boy’s head whipped in her direction. “I think it’s time you went home.”

Arya’s face scrunched up. “Jon’s staying over tonight. He’s teaching me how to beat Robb at poker.”

 _Like hell he is._ “I’m sorry, Jon,” she apologised, ignoring her daughter and not sorry at all, “but Ned’s feeling under the weather and I don’t think hosting guests is a good idea.”

“Uh,” the boy blinks at her, “okay.” He makes to rise, throwing Sansa a few mournful looks as his palms run up and down the black denim on his thighs.

“It’s pitch black out, Mum,” Robb interjects, “and Jon walked all the way here. He can’t walk back at this hour.”

“You can give him a ride,” Catelyn offers, squashing her son’s protest – that was until he lifted his beer bottle (his second of the evening from what she recalls).

“Fine,” Cately grouses, snatching her bag and keys, “I’ll take him.” It might be better this way anyhow. Perhaps she can make her intentions with all this very clear to the boy.

The car ride is quiet apart from the odd direction Jon supplies with a murmur here and there. Streetlights streaked in through the dark. Catelyn very rarely comes to this side of town. There are groups of hooded youths hanging around together. They eye her car as she drives by.

Jon’s house is exactly as she thought it would be; small, overgrown weeds strangling the tiny front patch of grass, a wheelie-bin knocked over on its side, everything in need of a lick of paint... or just plain throwing out.

“Thanks for the ride, Mrs S,” Jon mumbles, reaching for the handle.

“Jon,” she doesn’t want to be stern, but when it comes to her children, Catelyn won’t have any unnecessary complications to their successes. Jon Snow is an unnecessary complication. “I don’t want you to come around to my house again.” He stares at her for a second or two, lips parting in surprise before his gaze drops to the in-car console lit up between them.

“Right,” he says, head nodding, “...okay.” The door clicks open and he makes to leave.

“And Jon?... I don’t want you around Robb and Arya, and I certainly don’t want you around Sansa.”

Pressing his lips together, Catelyn saw him accept the inevitable. It was for the best. They’re from different worlds after all. Best he sticks to his own.

With hands shoved in his pockets and his hood thrown over his head, Catelyn watches him climb the concrete front steps and shoulder open the apparently unlocked door to his house. A light flicks on in one of the downstairs windows – windows that aren’t even dressed with any kind of net, blind or curtain. She can see right in, watches Jon approach the sink, pick around for what she assumes is a halfway clean glass and fill it with water.

Catelyn should leave. She should turn the key in the ignition and go home to her safe gated community house and her family. Something prevents her from doing so though. She feels stuck, watching this window as though it were a compelling documentary on television. A man walks into the room behind him – slim with a shock of silver white hair though he looks barely older than Jon. This must be the uncle that Robb had told her about – the one that took Jon in a few years ago when something happened to his mother. From where she sat in her car, Catelyn could make out the way the uncle seemed to snarl at the Snow boy, apparently not keen to see him home. Jon ignores his uncle’s presence which only looked to ignite some fury in the man. He stepped forward and violently yanked the hood from his head before issuing a slap to the side of his ear.

Catelyn had seen men and boys rough-housing – witnessed the good-natured play-fighting in her own home even.

This was not that. The blood in her veins pumped hot and her breath was short in her throat.

Swatting his uncle’s slap away, Jon seemed to quip something in return – something that the man hadn’t liked at all. He barrelled into the boy shoulder first, slamming his back into the wall. “Oh Gods!” Catelyn said to no-one at all as she watched Jon attempt to shove his uncle away. He was gifted with a punch to the gut for his troubles. He’d been doubled over from the force, but that apparently hadn’t been acceptable for the other man; he pulled Jon up using a hand wrapped around his throat, pinning him to the wall and pointing an accusatory finger while he spat something that was no doubt vile in his face. Jon gave as good as he got – shoving and kicking. Catelyn had had enough. She stepped out of her car and began striding towards Jon Snow’s front door.

“Get your hands off of him!” she yells, all fury and rage as she burst into the unkempt kitchen. Both sets of eyes, one grey, one violet turn wide at her sudden entrance. “Get your hands off of him or so help me Gods I’ll make you regret ever laying a finger on that boy!”

Jon’s uncle releases him through confusion alone. “Who the fuck are you, lady? And what are you doing in my house?”

She ignores him - doesn’t want to waste a single breath or iota of energy on this poor excuse of a man. Instead she addresses Jon beside him. “Jon,” she says with a nod, “go and get anything you need for a few nights stay. Ned will come back to get the rest.”

“The rest?” the poor boy looks rightfully confused. Catelyn can hardly make head nor tail of it herself considering how she felt about him a few mere moments ago, but she just cannot stand by and let this continue.

“Yes. You can have our guest bedroom for as long as you like.”

“The stray mutt’s not going anywhere,” Jon’s uncle challenged.

Catelyn cocks her head and raises one perfectly plucked brow. “Oh really?” she mused, taking a step forward, “because my husband is on extremely good terms with the chief of police and I’m sure you wouldn’t appreciate your name being brought up with him the next time he dines with us.” This man has his hands stained with something illegal, she’s sure. And even if that’s not the case, she’s just witnessed him assault a minor. No doubt this isn’t the first time.

The man’s lip curls in disgust at her. He spits at her feet. That’s fine, let him spit. “Go on then,” he says to Jon, though his eyes never leave Catelyn’s, “do as your nice shiny new mummy tells you to.”

Jon shoves his shoulder into his uncle as he passes, making his way to what must be his room. Catelyn half expects him to not come back down – to refuse to go with her after what she’d said, after what she’d thought of him.

The car ride is quiet again. The same streetlights shine down on them as they go. Catelyn doesn’t really know what to say now she has him and she’s taking him back home with her.

“I didn’t need anyone to come swooping in to save me,” Jon mumbles sullenly, arms wrapped around the backpack of his things.

Catelyn indicates to turn left. “Maybe not, but there was no stopping me from swooping, I’m afraid.”

Quiet again.

He looks out the window for a long while, houses and neighbourhoods starting to look better kept. “I thought you didn’t want me around Robb and Arya?”

“They would’ve found a way to spend time with you even if I forbade it,” Catelyn grins, changing down a gear as they near a traffic light.

“... and Sansa?”

Catelyn worries at her lip. “Sansa... Sansa is a good girl.”

“... I really like her.”

_Of course he does._

“Jonathan Snow, they’ll be no funny business under my roof with my daughter, understand?”

He blinks at her before turning to look out the window once more. “’Course not... Sansa’s a good girl... just like you said,” he tells the world passing by the car outside.

Fingers tighten around the steering wheel.

She’s going to have to stop buying those suckers.

**Author's Note:**

> ....aaaaand of course they end up doing the very same 'funny business' that Catelyn specifically forbade them from engaging in!
> 
> This little one shot was inspired by a scene in a not terribly well known Irish comedy - I'll be amazed if anyone recognises it.


End file.
